


Argentina

by orphan_account



Category: RPF - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 00:11:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	Argentina

Hands jammed tight down in his pockets as he watches the car leave, the breeze from the window cold on his skin, raising goose bumps where heat was only minutes before and if he closes his eyes he can still feel Chris’ tongue on the nape of his neck, Chris’ teeth finding the first ridge of bone at the top of his spine. Feel his hips dig into a too hard bed as Chris’ cock rides the crease of his ass so fucking slowly he’s sure he’s gonna reach round any second and grab Chris’ ass real hard to drag him closer. If he could get his wrists loose of Chris’ hands. Held tight to “hold fucking still” the laugh against his skin low and smoky, just as teeth find his shoulder and hips dig into his ass.

Pushing back and biting _we don’t have time_ into high thread count cotton that tears just as easily as the cheap shit from Wal-Mart, burying fingers into feathers, as the bones in his wrist grind when he moves them. “Always got time” licked behind his ear as hands let go of wrists to scrape nails down his arms and across his shoulders, the tip of the wickedest tongue tracing the line of his spine.

Not caring now that the car will be here any minute now, just that he can push himself back as that tongue finds the base of his spine, the crease of his ass, fingertips gripping his hips bruise deep and he might just come from that alone.

Ignoring the door buzzer and the vibrating cell phone thirty seconds later to rock forward into a barely slicked fist, back onto fingers that press inside. “Wait” bitten into the soft flesh of his ass and no that’s not helping at all. 

“Son of a bitch.” 

“Yeah, well, and?” 

The banging on the door managing to do just what _wait_ couldn’t, pulling him back from an edge he doesn’t think he ever has a grip on, not really. “I love you” tattooed into his skin as Chris pushes inside and so fucking slow not happening, not now.

Feathers puffing up as the material in his hands is shredded. Hair, wet with sweat and too damn long, but perfect anyway, falling across his shoulders, sending shudders skittering across his skin. Moving together, no more words, no more waiting, no more time. No longer hearing the calls from behind thick wood, calls that tell Chris to get his ass out here, the car is waiting, just the breath that scorches his ear, blows a hurricane against his neck, the heart beat that pounds into his back.

Fingers curling in his hair, sting and pull as his head’s dragged back, their lips mash together, tongues fucking mouths, teeth finding lips already red and swollen. Frozen there in that moment, flies trapped in amber, neither chancing the move that will tip the balance, clinging to this for a second longer, the car and the set and another 12 hour day forgotten until one of them breathes, moves, touches the other, he’s not sure who or when, nor does he care. Time starting again in fast forward, ripped from them as they fall breathless and spent into crumpled sheets.

 

The vibrating in his hand breaking the spell, a shiver covering his whole body, stepping back now from the window and pulling it closed.

“Hey”


End file.
